Claire Delacroix (32 page)

Luc smiled. “I thank you for the encouragement, sir,” he said firmly and flicked a glance to the keep. “I shall heed your counsel.”

“Good!” Connor wagged a finger. “Leave her this day that she might ponder what has happened. By this eve, I have no doubt that she will receive you.”

Luc bowed slightly. “I thank you again, sir.”

Connor liked the gleam of determination that lit the younger man’s eye. Aye, Luc Fitzgavin was a man Connor could respect, a man who would ensure Brianna’s happiness,
a man who would protect and cherish her like none other.

And this was a man who deserved to know the truth about the Rose of Tullymullagh. Connor blinked at the realization. ’Twas Brianna’s legacy, after all, and that of the children these two would bring to light.

And ’twas time Connor told someone of his secret.

Connor frowned at the household still lingering around the orchard, then bent close to Luc. “Come early to the board this night,” he counselled. “There is a tale you deserve to know if you will take my daughter to wife.”

“I should be honored to enjoy your confidence, sir.” And Luc bowed low.

Connor could not help but smile, all was being resolved so well. Eva would have taken to this man, he was certain of it.

’Twas on his way back to the keep that Connor had a sudden thought. He glanced to the gates, and the despondent Gavin still sat there.

And if Gavin sat outside the gates, then the solar would be vacant.

The chapel could be Connor’s alone.

Aye, he would give thanks for all that had come his—and Brianna’s—way in this, he would give thanks that his sole child was destined to repeat her parents’ happiness. He would whisper to Eva of what had happened, of his hopes for the future, for ’twas there that Connor felt closest to her.

’Twas no small gift to know that Brianna would be secure and happy for all her days. Eva must be told. Connor’s steps quickened in anticipation. He must make haste!

But Connor was not the only one seizing the opportunity to be alone in the lord’s private chapel.

Brianna restlessly poked at the accounts Uther had laid before her. Ruarke’s demand on her time had been shortlived, for he had abandoned her to her labor, pleading some errand or another, as soon as they entered the hall. Brianna would have enjoyed a measure of Fenella’s cheerful company, but the maid must be back in the kitchens again.

Truly, Brianna would have to have a word with the maid and discourage such unseemly habits. ’Twas well enough for a maid to chatter, but Fenella’s sire expected her to learn the decorum of a lady of the manor.

As Brianna should be doing. She sighed and eyed the parchment, unable to shake the image of Luc pledging to win her heart. Just the recollection made her heart pound wildly.

Could he do it?

Could Brianna win
Luc’s
heart in return?

Could the love she had long desired truly be so close at hand?

She picked up the quill and examined the ledger before her, wishing she were better with tallies. The accounts had proven to be the greatest challenge of administration and the one Brianna liked least.

This ledger was not likely to distract her on this day. ’Twas part of her education, but Brianna always erred in the addition.

That, indeed, was why Uther insisted she continue doing it. Brianna grimaced at the ledger but the numbers did not tally of their own accord.

She thought once more of Luc, butterflies dancing in her belly at the thought of wedding him. She admitted to herself that the man’s kisses were tempting beyond all and indulged herself in wondering what proceeded from there.

’Twas all a secret of the marital bed, Brianna knew well,
though she did not know specifics. Indeed, she had never truly wondered while her mother was alive. She had not wondered until Luc awakened her with his kiss.

And now, there was no one to ask.

“My lady,” Uther chided, interrupting her daydreams. “Have you not yet completed this simple task?”

“Nay, Uther, not yet.”

The steward clicked his tongue. “You desired to know of this labor, my lady,” he reminded her sternly, “and balanced ledgers are a critical ingredient in any well-administered household.”

“Aye, Uther.” Brianna dutifully bent over the ledger once more. Uther left her at work, but ’twas not to be long before her calculations were interrupted once more.

The chapel was dark, but Connor knew the way well enough for he had come this way a thousand times. He counted the steps as he climbed the narrow stairs. He lifted his lantern high as he stepped into the chapel proper.

But instead of sighing with pleasure, Connor gasped at the sight before his eyes.

Two figures, masked yet familiar for all of that, spun to confront him. Connor’s hand trembled in outrage and the flame of his lantern shook when he saw the damage they had wrought in this sacred place.

“You!” he cried angrily, pointing at one. “And you!” Connor pointed to the other as he stepped into the middle of the chapel and drew himself up to his full height. He glared at them both. “What …?”

’Twas the last word that Connor had the chance to utter. The first blow took him so by surprise that he fell to his knees, dazed. He blinked at the floor but once before a second blow landed across his back and sent him tumbling.

He looked up through the haze of his pain, unable to understand what had gone awry.

And someone, someone whom Connor had long trusted, kicked the old king in the face. He tasted his own blood, then felt the keen edge of a blade as ’twas buried in his side. He caught his breath as the blade was savagely driven deeper and pain flooded through him.

Then Connor of Tullymullagh knew no more.

“Stubborn fools and blundering asses!” Gavin pronounced from the portal, his booming voice enough to make Brianna forget her sum. Gavin shook his fist when he saw he had caught each and every eye. “I am surrounded on all sides! I have had my fill of the lot of you.”

Before anyone troubled to voice similar feelings for his presence, Gavin jabbed a finger toward a scullery lad making his way between the trestle tables. “You! Bring my meal to the solar.
Now
!”

The boy yelped in terror and ran for the kitchens. Uther’s lips set in a disapproving line and Brianna frowned, even as she bent over the accounts once more.

She would have to begin this cursed tally again.

’Twas not long before Gavin’s outraged bellow carried from far above, interrupting Brianna’s addition yet again. Yet ’twas not the anger they had all come to associate from Gavin that made every head in the hall snap up for the second time in close succession.

’Twas the uncharacteristic echo of horror. Gavin roared again and the assembly was on their feet in collective alarm, their gazes fixed at the top of the stairs.

“By the saints above, what has possessed the man now?” Uther muttered. He straightened and headed briskly for the stairs.

Brianna had a sudden foreboding that naught good had
transpired. She slammed the ledger closed and was quick on Uther’s heels, wanting to see the truth with her own eyes.

Evidently she was not the only one with such a thought, for the entire household was immediately behind her—their feet pounding on the wooden stairs, their uncertainty tangible.

The door to the solar was unlatched and the party surged through to the next flight of stairs, Uther and Brianna leading the way. To the surprise of all, Gavin was not in the solar proper, but a shuffle from above revealed his presence in the chapel.

“Like as not, he has had an epiphany,” Uther commented beneath his breath and headed for those stairs.

Brianna trotted right behind him, her sense of foreboding growing with every step. She could not imagine Gavin in the chapel for any good reason at all.

The man did not strike her as a religious sort.

Gavin stood at the summit, his features oddly smeared with black. He stared fixedly at the midst of the chapel floor, his expression dazed, and seemed unaware of their arrival.

Uther pushed Gavin forcibly aside, and Brianna gasped at the pool of blood spreading across the chapel floor. Then steward and daughter of the house simultaneously saw what had shocked Tullymullagh’s conqueror.

The broken body of Connor lay lifeless in the midst of that dark pool.

Brianna took one look and screamed. “
Father!
”

She fell on her knees beside his limp body, cradling his beloved head in her lap, touching his throat.

There was no reassuring murmur of his heart.

Nay! Brianna leaned over her father, desperate for some hint that he yet lived. She strained for the faintest whisper of his breath.

There was none.

Her vision clouded with tears and Brianna shook her head, unable to believe that he was gone, so suddenly and so completely. It could not be true. It could not be so.

’Twas all some cruel jest. It had to be. She could not permit it to be otherwise.

But the truth sprawled in her lap could not be denied. Brianna looked at Uther, still unable to make sense of what she knew to be true.

“He is dead,” she whispered unevenly. “Uther, he is dead.”

The steward turned on Gavin and fairly shoved that man down the stairs in his outrage. “How dare you commit such a sin in a holy place like this?”

“What is this you say?”

“Do not play the innocent with me!” Uther bellowed in a most uncharacteristic manner. “I have seen well enough the anger between you and my lord Connor! I have seen how deeply you resent his presence! I have seen how you would steal the smallest honor from him!”

Uther inhaled so sharply that his nostrils fairly pinched shut. His disgust was tangible. “But what manner of barbarian takes a man’s life in a place consecrated to God?!”

Brianna caught her breath and stared at her father’s pallid face in belated understanding. She had not considered the blood, though now she did.

Her father had been murdered.

In his own chapel.

Connor’s eyes were yet open, though even now their silvery hue dimmed. His features were frozen in an expression of mingled horror and pain. ’Twas the look of a man betrayed and once she realized it, Brianna could no longer look upon him.

A hard lump rose in her throat at her inevitable conclusion. Her sire had been killed by someone within his own
household. Brianna’s chest tightened painfully. She looked at the faces of those already in the chapel and yet more crowding the stair.

Dermot, Fenella, Ruarke, Cook, everyone was present, every face was etched with anguish. Brianna heard the rustle of footsteps and knew that yet more lingered below.

Who could have done this thing?

Her gaze landed upon the adamantly protesting Gavin and Brianna knew there was accusation in her own eyes.

Father Padraig pushed his way through the group on the stairs, clucked his tongue in sharp disapproval, then fell to his knees beside Brianna. “The wrath of the Lord is onerous upon us these days,” he muttered darkly. “And the price of our sins runs high.”

Brianna blinked. “My father was no sinner.”

Father Padraig threw a stern glance her way. “We are
all
sinners, my lady, for we are born of sinful union between man and woman.”